July 5th, 2009, 3:35pm AKDT.
I sat down at my computer chair with a sigh, and stared at the ceiling in exhaustion. After running myself ragged for the last several days preparing for a 4th of july megabarbecue, and with the temperatures as high as they had been, I was bushed.
I felt a bead of sweat escape the back of my head and go chasing down my neck, and leaned forward to scrub at it with the handy towel. I shifted in the chair to allow the window fans to cool me, and took a slug of beer.
I finished the first of the six-pack I had brought home, and fired up my faithful computer. Beer in hand, I started CoH updating, figuring to steal a few hours in-game before I tried to get some rest, and threw up a browser window to read the boards while I patched and updated.
Beer Two went the way of the dodo while the updater abused my filesystem, and I contemplated the empty bottle. I've spent about a year of my life in the bottom of a bottle, and ever since, have been extremely sensitive about my alcohol consumption. Given the absurd temperatures recently and the amount of work I'd put into the barbecue, as well as the one-time nature of the day, I figured I was doing OK.
Beer three landed on my desk with a healthy swallow missing, and I moseyed out of my bedroom to the neccesary. I turned my alarm clock on on the way by, and took care of business. Afterwards, I pulled a pack of d6 out of the cabinet in the living room. Returning to compy, I sat down and fed CoH my login info. Server select was an easy decision, as always, and my character roster on Virtue stared at me while I consulted my beer.
The dice seemed like a better call, and I rolled a few times, boozily thinking about methodology. Given my rare and light alcohol intake, I have very little resistance, and was, with 2.5 bottles of Alaskan Amber in me, drunk. I stifled a yawn, fatigue and heat teaming up with alcohol, and handily threw a pair of d6 into my mouth. I jerked forward, coughing and choking, and bashed my skull into the keyboard.
Fade to black doesn't cut it. 'Crash Cut to Darkness' is a better term here.
I woke up staring at a pair of d6 showing snake eyes, beady black dots on white cubes. The muted sound of the alarm clock continued, a morning DJ exhorting me to 'enjoy the only station that plays the Beatles tracks you don't find on the white album'. I wobbled to my feet, stumbled, and threw my hand out to catch myself, and fell through my bed, landing on the floor with bits of klik-clak couch everywhere.
Grateful for the protection afforded me by my armor even when unpowered, I levered myself back to my feet and managed to silence the alarm clock. I popped my helmet off on the way to the bathroom and hung it on its coat hook, next to my hat. Shave took a few minutes, and by the time I had finished that and gotten all of my upper body armor off, I realized something was up.
I closed the bathroom door and eyed myself in the full length mirror on the backside. Shoulders, chin, belly, hair, eyes, check check check. Pile of blue-and-white hybrid Flexmetal/Hardshell armor pieces, check.
Wait. Check? What?
I shucked the bottom half of the armor, more similar to putting on (extremely!) heavy jeans than one would think, and considered the pile.
This just wouldn't do for thinking on.
I wended my way showerward, leaving the pile of armor in the bathroom, and headed off for work.
"No can brain today. Want cheezeburger."
From NGE: Nobody Dies, by Gregg Landsman
http://www.fanfiction.net/s/5579457/1/NGE_Nobody_Dies
I sat down at my computer chair with a sigh, and stared at the ceiling in exhaustion. After running myself ragged for the last several days preparing for a 4th of july megabarbecue, and with the temperatures as high as they had been, I was bushed.
I felt a bead of sweat escape the back of my head and go chasing down my neck, and leaned forward to scrub at it with the handy towel. I shifted in the chair to allow the window fans to cool me, and took a slug of beer.
I finished the first of the six-pack I had brought home, and fired up my faithful computer. Beer in hand, I started CoH updating, figuring to steal a few hours in-game before I tried to get some rest, and threw up a browser window to read the boards while I patched and updated.
Beer Two went the way of the dodo while the updater abused my filesystem, and I contemplated the empty bottle. I've spent about a year of my life in the bottom of a bottle, and ever since, have been extremely sensitive about my alcohol consumption. Given the absurd temperatures recently and the amount of work I'd put into the barbecue, as well as the one-time nature of the day, I figured I was doing OK.
Beer three landed on my desk with a healthy swallow missing, and I moseyed out of my bedroom to the neccesary. I turned my alarm clock on on the way by, and took care of business. Afterwards, I pulled a pack of d6 out of the cabinet in the living room. Returning to compy, I sat down and fed CoH my login info. Server select was an easy decision, as always, and my character roster on Virtue stared at me while I consulted my beer.
The dice seemed like a better call, and I rolled a few times, boozily thinking about methodology. Given my rare and light alcohol intake, I have very little resistance, and was, with 2.5 bottles of Alaskan Amber in me, drunk. I stifled a yawn, fatigue and heat teaming up with alcohol, and handily threw a pair of d6 into my mouth. I jerked forward, coughing and choking, and bashed my skull into the keyboard.
Fade to black doesn't cut it. 'Crash Cut to Darkness' is a better term here.
I woke up staring at a pair of d6 showing snake eyes, beady black dots on white cubes. The muted sound of the alarm clock continued, a morning DJ exhorting me to 'enjoy the only station that plays the Beatles tracks you don't find on the white album'. I wobbled to my feet, stumbled, and threw my hand out to catch myself, and fell through my bed, landing on the floor with bits of klik-clak couch everywhere.
Grateful for the protection afforded me by my armor even when unpowered, I levered myself back to my feet and managed to silence the alarm clock. I popped my helmet off on the way to the bathroom and hung it on its coat hook, next to my hat. Shave took a few minutes, and by the time I had finished that and gotten all of my upper body armor off, I realized something was up.
I closed the bathroom door and eyed myself in the full length mirror on the backside. Shoulders, chin, belly, hair, eyes, check check check. Pile of blue-and-white hybrid Flexmetal/Hardshell armor pieces, check.
Wait. Check? What?
I shucked the bottom half of the armor, more similar to putting on (extremely!) heavy jeans than one would think, and considered the pile.
This just wouldn't do for thinking on.
I wended my way showerward, leaving the pile of armor in the bathroom, and headed off for work.
"No can brain today. Want cheezeburger."
From NGE: Nobody Dies, by Gregg Landsman
http://www.fanfiction.net/s/5579457/1/NGE_Nobody_Dies